Winter House

by Carol O’Connell

  „It’s on the floor beside the body.“

  „No, dear. Where is our ice pick?“

  The younger woman shook her head, uncomprehending. Suddenly, one pointing finger rose in the air as a divining rod, and she walked in a straight line to a drawer beside the sink. She pulled out an ice pick, then placed it on the table in front of Nedda and left the room. Heller followed after her, fingerprint kit in hand and calling out, „Ma’am? Miss Smyth? A minute, please?“

  Nedda Winter studied the plain ice pick on the table. Its wooden handle was cracked and worn. „Doesn’t quite go with the silver ice bucket, does it?“

  „No, ma’am, it doesn’t.“ And he had already found this one during an earlier search of the kitchen. Riker’s eyes were on the hallway when Mallory paused just outside the door, standing there in low conversation with the police photographer. She moved on down the hall, no doubt wanting pictures of a sewing room with no scissors. He turned back to face Nedda. „We’ll keep looking till we find the other ice pick – the good one.“

  If she took this as a threat – and it was – she showed no outward sign. Leaning toward Riker, speaking in her dry way, she said, „Our Bitty is a soldier in the army of the Lord – in case that escaped your notice. She’s also very delicate. I hope you don’t see her as a woman who fancies dangerous men, maybe lures them home so she can murder them.“

  „I like your sense of humor, Nedda.“ He had already surmised that if Bitty, the Christian soldier, were hanging nose to nose with a fruit fly, the fly would beat the living crap out of her.

  A shriek came from the front room, and now Bitty Smyth was screaming, „No fingerprints! No, you can’t do this!“

  Riker watched Kathy Mallory passing the kitchen doorway again, advancing on the front room with grim resolve. He was already feeling sorry for the smaller, weaker woman; the little soldier was indeed delicate in mind and body.

  Oh, yes, there would be fingerprints, and right now.

  Mallory’s end of the conversation was not intelligible at this distance, but Riker could imagine the scene in the other room: his partner’s attitude conjuring up a faint aroma from the sulfurs of hell and maybe a little smoke; Bitty’s eyes growing wide and wild.

  „No!“ Bitty Smyth yelled. „I want a lawyer!"

  Bitty Smyth flitted about the room, staring into every face, silently begging for relief. She avoided looking at Mallory, whose eyes were green neon signs with the words no mercy.

  Nedda Winter entered the room, followed by a more languid Riker, who hardly ever moved quite so fast as an old lady, though Mallory knew that her partner would not call this white-haired woman old; the litde lost girl of the nineteen-forties would only be fifteen years his senior.

  Deserting her niece, Miss Winter hurried past Mallory and disappeared into a small powder room in the foyer. Every pair of eyes was on that closing door. Dazed by this abandonment, even Bitty Smyth was quietly keeping watch.

  When the old woman emerged, she held a glass of water in her hand and moved toward her niece, smiling, extending the glass, then holding it to Bitty’s lips and urging her to drink. „Big gulps, dear. Everything is all right.“

  Bitty Smyth stole a glance at Mallory, then shook her head slowly from side to side to say that this could not be true.

  „I’ve already given them my fingerprints.“ Nedda Winter settled her niece on the sofa. „There’s no harm in letting them take yours.“

  Heller pulled up a chair alongside the couch and gently took the tiny woman’s hand and kissed it.

  Well, this was new. The only one more startled than Bitty was Mallory.

  The head of Forensics was not only doing the work of underlings tonight but he was also in rare diplomatic form, and Mallory disapproved. She preferred her interview subjects unhinged and easier to intimidate – less work. Before Heller had inked the third finger, Bitty Smyth’s head lolled back on the upholstery and her eyes closed. Mallory turned on the older woman. „What did you put in that water?“

  „A sedative.“ Miss Winter opened her hand to show the label on the bottle. „This house almost qualifies as a pharmacy. These belong to my sister, Cleo.“

  This civilian was surprisingly unruffled. Mallory decided to work on that.

  While Heller finished the fingerprinting process, one of the medical examiner’s underlings returned to remind the detectives that the meat wagon was still waiting for the corpse. Mallory shot him a look to tell him that he should get out of here – now.

  Nedda Winter searched the remaining faces, then turned to Riker. „Mr. Butler is gone?“

  „Yeah,“ said Riker. „It didn’t take him long to check out the pictures in Bitty’s room.“

  „Is he going to make any trouble for my niece?“

  „I wouldn’t be surprised.“ Mallory glanced at the small woman asleep on the sofa. „By law, we had to warn him. We’re really scrupulous about that when we find the stalker at a crime scene with a dead body.“

  „My niece is harmless.“

  „You really believe that?“ Mallory opened her blazer, pausing a beat to display a very large gun and her authority in this room. „I’m surprised.“ Her hand passed over the weapon to dip into an inside breast pocket. She produced a wrinkled sheet of paper. „I found this in your bedroom wastebasket. It’s the same line written over and over again. ‘Crazy people make sane people crazy.’“ Mallory glanced at the small sleeper on the couch. „Was Bitty getting on your nerves?“

  The older woman looked as if she had just been slapped.

  Mallory edged closer. „Need to take a pill, Miss Winter? I saw all that medication in your room.“

  „I’m fine, thank you.“

  „Sit down,“ said Mallory, indicating a chair close to the corpse.

  Nedda Winter shook her head, defying a direct order and electing to stand. „I’ve been sitting for too long.“ With a slight lift of one shoulder, she said, „You know – old bones.“ And so her dignity remained intact – for the moment.

  „Really?“ Mallory made a wide circle around Miss Winter, forcing the woman to revolve. „The medical examiner says you’re in very good shape for your age. Good hearing and coordination. No confusion at all. Now Dr. Morgan thought that was strange… considering all of your meds. He said the high doses should’ve created massive confusion bordering on dementia, but you’re pretty sharp.“

  „Thank you.“

  Once more Mallory looked down at the sleeping niece. „Does Bitty know that you flush all those pills every day?“

  She noted just the barest inclination of Nedda Winter’s head, a small gesture of congratulation. And now this old woman must understand that Riker’s interrogation had been merely a friendly little warm-up.

  Showtime.

  „And your color surprised Dr. Morgan, too. According to your niece, your skin turned yellow in the end stage of cancer. But now you look entirely too healthy.“ Mallory stopped circling her interview subject. They stood toe-to-toe. „Can you explain that?“

  „Doctor-patient confidentiality,“ said the old woman. „The state of my health isn’t open to police scrutiny.“

  „Wrong.“ Mallory turned her back on the older woman. „I can ask you anything I want.“ And that was true. She could legally ask. „And now we ‘11 go over the holes in your statement until I hear something believable. You might want to sit down now. This could take all night.“

  And with this more polite invitation, this consideration for her comfort – yeah, right – Nedda Winter did sit down. But this was not the advantage that Mallory sought; she had wanted subservience, and all she got was tolerance. Miss Winter’s head was level and regal; she would not strain by one bare inch to look up at her adversary.

  The detective moved behind the woman, leaning down close to her ear and saying, „I like money motives.“ Mallory rounded the chair in time to catch the trace of a smile.

  „I never touched the man’s wallet,“ said Nedda Winter.

  „I did.
He had a lot of cash. But you told the responding officer there was none missing from the wall safe. You were positive about that.“ She signaled Riker to bring in the patrolman waiting outside on the steps. After sitting down in an armchair on the other side of the corpse, she proceeded to ignore the old woman, turning all her attention to the pages of a small notebook.

  The young officer entered the front room. He smiled at Miss Winter, and one finger tapped the visor of his hat in a mock salute. Mallory caught his eye, and, with a look that promised something nasty, she put an end to all that friendliness. He stood at attention, all properly lined up on the side of Mallory and the law.

  The detective turned back to her notes, saying, „You remember Officer Brill, don’t you? He shows up for all of your break-ins.“

  „Yes, I remember him. But that first one was only an attempted burglary.“

  Mallory kept her eyes on the notebook. „According to Officer Brill, your relatives were out of town for that one, too. What a coincidence.“ She looked up at the staircase and the small device well concealed in the woodwork. „Oh, and the tape cassette is missing from your security camera. Another coincidence? Don’t look at Officer Brill. He’s not a friend of the family. He’s with us.“

  But not for much longer. With only a nod, she sent the man back to his post outside the front door. Nedda followed the young officer with her eyes, clearly sorry to see him go.

  „We’ll start over.“ Mallory accepted a yellow pad from Riker, then pulled out a pen and clicked it absently. „You said you stabbed the burglar with the scissors.“

  Click, click.

  „Yes.“ Miss Winter pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her robe. „This makes the fourth confession of the evening. I stabbed him with the scissors.“

  „But his weapon,“ said Mallory, „the ice pick – that’s jours. Don’t waste my time making me prove it.“

  Click, click, click, click.

  „I never said it wasn’t mine.“ She shook a cigarette loose from the pack. „I only said I couldn’t identify it.“ And now she searched her pockets for a light. „Maybe he found it here in the house.“

  „In the dark? According to your statement, the lights were off. You didn’t turn the lights on until it was all over. How could he find that ice pick in a strange house in the dark?“

  Click, click, click, click, click.

  „I believe I saw a small flashlight on the floor by the – “

  „Yeah, a penlight.“ Riker stepped forward with a lit match for her cigarette. „That was his. We found his fingerprints on the case and the batteries – the dead batteries.“

  Mallory leaned forward. „While you’re changing your statement, some advice – don’t fool with the lights, okay? If the lights had been on, he would’ve pulled his knife, and you’d be the dead body on the floor tonight.“ She leaned down to raise one pants leg of the corpse and exposed the long hunting knife in a leather holster strapped to his leg. Now the old woman was taken by surprise, but it passed quickly.

  „You see the problem, Miss Winter? Too many weapons. If he had a knife, why would he waste time hunting for a – “

  „All right, I lied. After I realized that he was dead – and he had no weapon – well, none that I could see – I put the ice pick in his hand. I thought it might make the police more sympathetic. But it was dark. I was afraid for my life.“

  „That’s the only thing you’ve said that I believe.“

  „I’m sorry I misled you.“

  Mallory looked down at her notes again, as if the next question mattered not at all to her. „Are you sorry enough to take a polygraph exam?“

  „Yes, of course, if you wish.“

  „That’s good,“ said Riker. „Now explain this.“ He held up a small plastic bag to the light of the chandelier so that she could clearly see the key inside. „We found dirt in the front door lock, and we found this key in the potted plant on the stairs outside. Our boy put it back after he opened the door. Didn’t you wonder why the alarm went off for last week’s burglary, but not tonight’s?“ He nodded toward the corpse. „This guy knew the code to turn off the alarm. You know what that means?“

  „We have an endless parade of temporary help. I suppose one of them set us up for a robbery.“

  „No, that doesn’t work for me.“ Mallory nudged the corpse with the toe of her running shoe. „Someone wants you dead, Miss Winter. This man was a murderer, not a burglar. He grabbed his victims off the street. Never broke into a house before, and he didn’t break into this one, either. So tell me – who benefits from your death?“

  „My death would make no difference to anyone.“

  Riker stared at the little woman on the couch. Bitty Smyth had begun to snore. „So maybe your niece is the target. Now that should make you real eager to help us out with this investigation.“

  „And if you don’t,“ said Mallory, „we ‘ve got you for tampering with evidence, obstruction of a homicide investigation and making false statements to the police. Does that worry you?“

  „My medication causes confusion,“ said Nedda Winter, throwing the young detective’s own words back at her. „And there go your charges.“

  „Nice try,“ said Mallory. „But that only tells me you’ve got secrets that’ll get you killed – you or your niece. What about your brother and sister? They were out of town for both break-ins.“

  „Nothing odd about that. Lionel and Cleo spend most of their time out of town.“

  Mallory left her chair to stand over the unconscious Bitty Smyth. Her long red nails grazed the sleeping woman’s hair. „Does Bitty know secrets, too? Let me put it another way. Would you trust your niece with a secret?“

  Nedda Winter rose to stand beside the detective. The cigarette, tightly clutched in her hand, had gone dark and smokeless, and now she broke it in half.

  Mallory never took her eyes off Bitty Smyth, her hostage in this interview. „All the doors in this house have old-fashioned locks and keyholes, except for your niece’s bedroom. She’s got a dead bolt and a slide bolt. Your brother and sister are always out of town. Why?“ She looked up at Nedda Winter. „Is your whole family afraid of you?“

  Riker stepped forward to deliver the blow that he had been waiting for all night long. „Mind if I call you Red?“

  Nedda Winter smiled, perhaps in relief, now that it was finally out. „Red Winter was the title of a painting,“ she said, „my portrait. Once my hair was red, but Red was never my name.“

  Bitty Smyth woke in the night, but not in her bed. The windows of the front room were looming rectangles of dull light. There was no other detail to be seen. By touch, she recognized the knitted afghan that always draped the sofa. Her aunt must have covered her with it as she lay sleeping. Bitty pulled it up to her chin, taking a little comfort from this thin protection of wool. And now she played the childhood game of ferreting out the monsters in the shadows.

  A dark silhouette passed by one window, the shadow of someone inside the house. She held her breath and heard whispers of a silk robe and slippered feet. It was Aunt Nedda, straight and tall, marching back and forth, an aged sentry pausing at each window to part the drapes and look outside. But the aunt’s form and face were lost in the dark, and so the shadow prevailed on Bitty’s imaginings. Old monsters never died.

  Chapter 2

  CHIEF MEDICAL EXAMINER EDWARD SLOPE MIGHT HAVE BEEN taken for a military man as he walked down the hall to his office. He had a stride that bordered on a march, and his face had all the animation of a granite war monument.

  The doctor was an early riser. Though he had minions, a small army of them, he was always the first to report for work. He cherished the quiet hours of daybreak, when the dead were content to wait until he had finished the newspaper, and the living would not intrude upon him while his coffee was still hot. If there was a God, then one of the assistant medical examiners could crack open the first corpse of the morning, and he might get caught up on a backlog of files. But firs
t – a little solitude. He unlocked the door to his office with a plan to work on the Times crossword puzzle.

  Or not.

  Kathy Mallory was asleep in his chair.

  Well, this put a lie to Detective Riker’s theory that she slept hanging by her heels like a bat. While her uncivilized eyes were closed, she looked rather like a child napping after a busy tour of duty on a homicide squad – and a bit of illegal trespass. A velvet pouch, holding bright bits of metal, lay open upon his desk blotter.

  Poor baby.

  Apparently, sleep had overtaken her before she could put her lock picks away.

  Oh, surprise number two.

  Her eyes snapped open in the mechanical fashion of a doll – or a robot. There was no middle gear of rousing from sleep and dreams. She was simply awake, and this lent credence to his own theory that she had an on-off switch.

  „Good morning, Kathy.“

  „Mallory,“ she said, reminding him of the rules. She liked the chilly distance of formality.

  Well, isn ‘t that just too bad.

  He had known her as Kathy since she was ten years old, though she had insisted at the time that she was twelve. His oldest friend, Louis Markowitz, had bargained her down to the more realistic age of eleven so that he could complete the paperwork for her foster care.

  Eleven, in a pig’s eye.

  But who could discern the true age of a homeless child who was also a gifted liar – and worse. She was the fault in the doctor’s personal myth of himself as an intractable man. Upon the death of her foster father, killed in the line of duty, Edward Slope had tried to fill that void, loving her enough for two, but he was no pushover. And this business of breaking into his office – well, he was not about to let that slide. He reached across the desk to grab her lock picks, planning to use them as a show-and-tell exhibit while he lectured her on -

  The lock picks were gone.

  She had pocketed them in a sleight of hand, and the doctor knew this drill all too well: if he had no evidence of her illegal entry, then there had been no crime that she would own up to.